And  tbe  Causes  Thereof 

firFRANKLFN  H.HEAD 


BOSTON  /IND   NEW  YORK 

bton,  Mifflin  and  Company 

Chicago :  S.  A.  Maxwell  &  Co. 


SHAKESPEARE'S    INSOMNIA 

tfjt  Caiificc  (Tjjcreof 


And  the  Caufes  Thereof 


BY 


FRANKLIN   H.  HEAD 


BOSTON  AND   NEW  YORK 

HOUGHTON,  MIFFLTN  AND   COMPANY 

CHICAGO:   S.  A.  MAXWELL  &  CO. 

1888 


Copyright,  1886, 
BY  FRANKLIN  H.  HEAD. 


SHAKESPEARE'S    INSOMNIA, 


THE    CAUSES    THEREOF. 


I. 

TNSOMNIA,  the  lack  of  "tired  Nature's  sweet 
restorer,"  is  rapidly  becoming  the  chronic 
terror  of  all  men  of  active  life  who  have  passed 
the  age  of  thirty-five  or  forty  years.  In  early 
life,  while  yet  he  "wears  the  rose  of  youth 
upon  him,"  man  rarely,  except  in  sickness, 
knows  the  want  of  sound,  undreaming  sleep. 
But  as  early  manhood  is  left  behind  and  the 
cares  and  perplexities  of  life  weigh  upon  him, 


.  (>  .  ;:  ;'.•  ; '  SH^KPB^P'S  INSOMNIA, 
\  *••••*•*•" 

making  far  more  needful  than  ever  the  rest 
which  comes  only  through  unbroken  sleep,  this 
remedial  agent  cannot  longer  be  wooed  and 
won.  Youth  would  "fain  encounter  darkness 
as  a  bride  and  hug  it  in  his  arms."  To  those 
of  riper  years  the  "  blanket  of  the  dark "  often 
ushers  in  a  season  of  terrors,  —  a  time  of  fitful 
snatches  of  broken  sleep  and  of  tormenting 
dreams;  of  long  stretches  of  wakefulness;  of 
hours  when  all  things  perplexing  and  trouble- 
some in  one's  affairs  march  before  him  in  sombre 
procession  :  in  endless  disorder,  in  labyrinths  of 
confusion,  in  countless  new  phases  of  disagree- 
ableness ;  and  at  length  the  morning  summons 
him  to  labor,  far  more  racked  and  weary  than 
when  he  sought  repose. 

It  has  been  of  late  years  much  the  fashion 
in  the  literature  of  this  subject  to  attribute 
sleeplessness  to  the  rapid  growth  of  facilities 
for  activities  of  every  kind.  The  practical  anni- 
hilation of  time  and  space  by  our  telegraphs 


AND  THE  CAUSES  THEREOF.  7 

and  railroads,  the  compressing  thereby  of  the 
labors  of  months  into  hours  or  even  minutes, 
the  terrific  competition  in  all  kinds  of  business 
thereby  made  possible  and  inevitable,  the  intense 
mental  activity  engendered  in  the  mad  race  for 
fame  or  wealth,  where  the  nervous  and  mental 
force  of  man  is  measured  against  steam  and 
lightning,  —  these  are  usually  credited  with 
having  developed  what  is  considered  a  modern 
and  even  an  almost  distinctively  American 
disease. 

As  the  maxim,  "  There  is  nothing  new  under 
the  sun,"  is  of  general  application,  it  may  be  of 
interest  to  investigate  if  an  exception  occurs  in 
the  case  of  sleeplessness  ;  if  it  be  true  that 
among  our  ancestors,  before  the  days  of  work- 
ing steam  and  electricity,  the  glorious  sleep  of 
youth  was  prolonged  through  all  one's  three  or 
four  score  years. 

Medical  books  and  literature  throw  no  light 
upon  this  subject  three  hundred  years  ago. 


8  SHAKESPEARE'S    INSOMNIA, 

We  must  therefore  turn  to  Shakespeare  — 
human  nature's  universal  solvent  —  for  light  on 
this  as  we  would  on  any  other  question  of  his 
time.  Was  he  troubled  with  insomnia,  then,  is 
the  first  problem  to  be  solved. 

Dr.  Holmes,  our  genial  and  many-sided  poet- 
laureate,  who  is  also  a  philosopher,  in  his 
"Life  of  Emerson,"  has  finely  worked  out  the 
theory  that  no  man  writes  other  than  his  own 
experience  :  that  consciously  or  otherwise  an 
author  describes  himself  in  the  characters  he 
draws;  that  when  he  loves  the  character  he 
delineates,  it  is  in  some  measure  his  own,  or 
at  least  one  of  which  he  feels  its  tendencies 
and  possibilities  belong  to  himself.  Emerson, 
too,  says  of  Shakespeare,  that  all  his  poetry 
was  first  experience. 

When  we  seek  to  analyze  what  we  mean 
by  the  term  Shakespeare,  to  endeavor  to  define 
wherein  he  was  distinct  from  all  others  and 
easily  pre-eminent,  to  know  why  to  us  he  ever 


AND  THE  CAUSES  THEREOF.  9 

grows  wiser  as  we  grow  wise,  we  find  that  his 
especial  characteristic  was  an  unequalled  power 
of  observation  and  an  ability  accurately  to 
chronicle  his  impressions.  He  was  the  only 
man  ever  born  who  lived  and  wrote  absolutely 
without  bias  or  prejudice.  Emerson  says  of 
him  that  ahe  reported  all  things  with  impar- 
tiality ;  that  he  tells  the  great  greatly,  the 
small  subordinately,  —  he  is  strong  as  Nature 
is  strong,  who  lifts  the  land  into  mountain 
slopes  without  effort,  and  by  the  same  rule  as 
she  floats  a  bubble  in  the  air,  and  likes  as  well 
to  do  the  one  as  the  other."  Says  he,  further: 
"  Give  a  man  of  talents  a  story  to  tell,  and  his 
partiality  will  presently  appear:  he  has  certain 
opinions  which  he  disposes  other  things  to 
bring  into  prominence ;  he  crams  this  part  and 
starves  the  other  part,  consulting  not  the  fitness 
of  the  thing  but  his  fitness  and  strength."  But 
Shakespeare  has  no  peculiarity;  all  is  duly 
given. 


10  SHAKESPEARE'S  INSOMNIA, 

Thus  it  is  that  his  dramas  are  the  book  of 
human  life.  He  was  an  accurate  observer  of 
Nature :  he  notes  the  markings  of  the  violet 
and  the  daisy;  the  haunts  of  the  honeysuckle, 
the  mistletoe,  and  the  woodbine.  He  marks 
the  fealty  of  the  marigold  to  its  god  the  sun, 
and  even  touches  the  freaks  of  fashion,  con- 
demning in  some  woman  of  his  time  an  usage, 
long  obsolete,  in  accordance  with  which  she 
adorned  her  head  with  "the  golden  tresses  of 
the  dead."  But  it  was  as  an  observer  and  a 
delineator  of  man  in  all  his  moods  that  he  was 
the  bright,  consummate  flower  of  humanity. 
His  experiences  were  wide  and  varied.  He 
had  absorbed  into  himself  and  made  his  own 
the  pith  and  wisdom  of  his  day.  As  the  fittest 
survives,  each  age  embodies  in  itself  all  worthy 
of  preservation  in  the  ages  gone  before.  In 
Shakespeare's  pages  we  find  a  reflection,  perfect 
and  absolute,  of  the  age  of  Elizabeth,  and 
therefore  of  all  not  transient  in  the  foregone 


AND  THE  CAUSES  THEREOF.  11 

times,  —  of  all  which  is  fixed  and  permanent  in 
our  own.  He  "held  the  mirror  up  to  Nature." 
So  "his  eternal  summer  shall  not  fade," 
because 

"  He  sang  of  the  earth  as  it  will  be 
When  the  years  have  passed  away." 

If,  therefore,  insomnia  had  prevailed  in  or  before 
his  time,  in  his  pages  shall  we  find  it  duly  set 
forth.  If  he  had  suffered,  if  the  "fringed  cur- 
tains of  his  eyes  were  all  the  night  undrawn," 
we  shall  find  his  dreary  experiences  —  his  hours 
of  pathetic  misery,  his  nights  of  desolation  — 
voiced  by  the  tongues  of  his  men  and  women. 

Shakespeare  speaks  often  of  the  time  in  life 
when  men  have  left  behind  them  the  dreamless 
sleep  of  youth.  Friar  Laurence  says :  — 

"Care  keeps  his  watch  in  every  old  man's  eye, 
And  where  care  lodges,  sleep  can  never  lie ; 
But  where  unbruised  youth  with  unstuffed  brain 
Doth  couch  his  limbs,  there  golden  sleep  doth 
reign." 


12  SHAKESPEARE'S  INSOMNIA, 

Shakespeare  describes,  too,  with  lifelike  fidelity, 
the  causes  of  insomnia,  which  are  not  weariness 
or  physical  pain,  but  undue  mental  anxiety.  He 
constantly  contrasts  the  troubled  sleep  of  those 
burdened  with  anxieties  and  cares,  with  the 
happy  lot  of  the  laborer  whose  physical  weari- 
ness insures  him  a  tranquil  night's  repose. 
Henry  VI.  says:  — 

"And  to  conclude,  the  shepherd's  homely  curds, 
His  cold  thin  drink  out  of  his  leather  bottle, 
His  wonted  sleep  under  a  fresh  tree's  shade, 
All  which  secure  and  sweetly  he  enjoys, 
Are  far  beyond  a  prince's  delicates." 

And  Henry  V.  says :  — 

"Tis  not  the  balm,  the  sceptre  and  the  ball, 
The  sword,  the  mace,  the  crown  imperial, 
The  intertissued  robe  of  gold  and  pearl, 
The  farced  title  running  'fore  the  king, 
The  throne  he  sits  on,  nor  the  tide  of  pomp 
That  beats  upon  the  high  shore  of  this  world,  — 
No,  not  all  these,  thrice  gorgeous  ceremony, 


AND  THE  CAUSES  THEREOF.  13 

Not  all  these,  laid  in  bed  majestical, 
Can  sleep  so  soundly  as  the  wretched  slave, 
Who,  with  a  body  filled  and  vacant  mind, 
Gets    him    to    rest,    crammed   with    distressful 

bread ; 

Never  sees  horrid  night,  that  child  of  hell, 
But,  like  a  lackey,  from  the  rise  to  set, 
Sweats  in  the  eye  of  Phoebus,  and  all  night 
Sleeps  in  Elysium.  .  .  . 
And,  but  for  ceremony,  such  a  wretch, 
Winding   up   days   with   toil   and   nights   with 

sleep, 
Hath  the  forehand  and  vantage  of  a  king." 

Prince  Henry  says,  in  "Henry  IV.":  — 

' '  O  polished  perturbation !     Golden  care  ! 
That  keep'st  the  ports  of  slumber  open  wide 
To  many  a  watchful  night,  sleep  with  it  now ! 
Yet  not  so  sound  and  half  so  deeply  sweet 
As  he  whose  brow  with  homely  biggin  bound 
Snores  out  the  watch  of  night." 

In  this  same  play,  too,  is  found  the  familiar 
and  marvellous  soliloquy  of  Henry  IV. :  — 


14  SHAKESPEARE'S  INSOMNIA, 

"How  many  thousand  of  my  poorest  subjects 
Are  at  this  hour  asleep  !  O  Sleep,  O  gentle  Sleep, 
Nature's  soft  nurse,  how  have  I  frighted  thee, 
That  thou  no  more  wilt  weigh  my  eyelids  down 
And  steep  my  senses  in  forgetfulness  ? 
Why  rather,  Sleep,  liest  thou  in  smoky  cribs, 
Upon  uneasy  pallets  stretching  thee, 
And    hushed   with    buzzing    night-flies    to    th}T 

slumber, 

Than  in  the  perfumed  chambers  of  the  great, 
Under  the  canopies  of  costly  state, 
And  lulled  with  sounds  of  sweetest  melody? 
O  thou  dull  god,  why  liest  thou  with  the  vile 
In  loathsome  beds,  and  leav'st  the  kingly  couch 
A  watch-case,  or  a  common  'larum-bell? 
Wilt  thou  upon  the  high  and  giddy  mast 
Seal  up  the  ship-boy's  ej-es,  and  rock  his  brains 
In  cradle  of  the  rude,  imperious  surge, 
And  in  the  visitation  of  the  winds, 
Who  take  the  ruffian  billows  by  the  top, 
Curling  their  monstrous  heads,  and  hanging  them 
With  deafening  clamor  in  the  slippery  shrouds, 
That  with  the  hurly,  death  itself  awakes? 
Canst  thou,  O  partial  Sleep,  give  thy  repose 
To  the  wet  sea-boy  in  an  hour  so  rude, 


AND  THE  CAUSES  THEREOF.  15 

And  in  the  calmest  and  most  stillest  night, 
With  all  appliances  and  means  to  boot, 
Deny  it  to  a  king?    Then,  happy  low,  lie  down  ! 
Uneasy  lies  the  head  that  wears  a  crown." 

Caesar,  whom  Shakespeare  characterizes  as  "the. 
foremost  man  of  all  this  world,"  says :  — 

4 '  Let  me  have  men  about  me  that  are  fat ; 
Sleek-headed  men,  and  such  as  sleep  o'  nights." 

And  again,  it  is  not  an  "old  man  broken  with 
the  storms  of  state"  whom  he  describes  when 
he  says : — 

"Thou  hast  no  figures  nor  no  fantasies 
Which  busy  care  draws  in  the  brains  of  men ; 
Therefore  thou  sleep'st  so  sound." 

The  poet ,  also  in  various  passages  expresses 
his  emphatic  belief  as  to  what  is  the  brightest 
blessing  or  the  deadliest  calamity  which  can  be 
laid  upon  our  frail  humanity.  Rarely  is  a  bless- 
ing invoked  which  does  not  include  the  wish 


16  SHAKESPEARE'S  INSOMNIA, 

for  tranquil  sleep ;  and  this,  too,  as  the  best 
and  greatest  boon  of  all.  His  gracious  bene- 
diction may  compass  honors  and  wealth  and 
happiness  and  fame,  —  that  one's  "name  may 
dwell  forever  in  the  mouths  of  men ; "  but 

"  The  earth  hath  bubbles  as  the  water  hath, 
And  these  are  of  them," 

as  compared  with  the  royal  benison,  "  Sleep 
give  thee  all  his  rest." 

The  spectres  of  the  princes  and  Queen  Anne, 
in  "Richard  III.,"  invoking  every  good  upon 
Richmond,  say:  — 

"  Sleep,  Richmond,  sleep  in  peace  and  wake  in  joy." 

And  again:  — 

/ 
"  Thou  quiet  soul,  sleep  thou  a  quiet  sleep." 

Romeo's  dearest  wish  to  Juliet  is, — 

"  Sleep  dwell  upon  thine  eyes  ;  peace  in  thy  breast." 


AND  THE  CAUSES  THEREOF.  17 

The   crowning  promise    of  Lady   Mortimer,   in 
"Henry  IV.,"  is  that 

"  She  will  sing  the  song  that  pleaseth  thee,        I  I 
And  on  thy  eyelids  crown  the  god  of  sleep." 

Titania  promises  her  fantastic  lover, — 

"I  '11  give  thee  fairies  to  attend  on  thee, 
And  they  shall  fetch  thee  jewels  from  the  deep, 
And   sing,  while  thou  on  pressed  flowers  dost 
sleep." 

Titus,  welcoming  again  to  Rome  the  victorious 
legions,  says  of  the  heroes  who  have  fallen : 

"  There  greet  in  silence,  as  the  dead  are  wont, 
And  sleep  in  peace,  slain  in  your  country's  wars," 

promising  them  that  in  the  land  of  the  blest 

"  are  no  storms, 
No  noise,  but  silence  and  eternal  sleep." 

Constantly   also   in   anathemas   throughout    the 

plays   are   invoked,  as  the  deadliest  of  curses, 

broken  rest    and   its    usual    accompaniment   of 

2 


18  SHAKESPEARE'S  INSOMNIA, 

troublous  dreams.  Thus  note  the  climax  in 
Queen  Margaret's  curse  upon  the  traitorous 
Gloster :  — 

"If  Heaven  have  any  grievous  plague  in  store 
Exceeding  those  that  I  can  wish  upon  thee, 
Oh,  let  them  keep  it  till  thy  sins  be  ripe, 
And  then  hurl  down  their  indignation 
On  thee,  the  troubler  of  the  poor  world's  peace ! 
The  worm  of  conscience  still  begnaw  thy  soul ! 
Thy  friends  suspect  for  traitors  while  thou  liv'st, 
And  take  deep  traitors  for  thy  dearest  friends ! 
No  sleep  close  up  that  deadly  eye  of  thine, 
Unless  it  be  while  some  tormenting  dream 
Affrights  thee  with  a  hell  of  ugly  devils !  " 

The  witch,  in  "  Macbeth/'  cataloguing  the  ca- 
lamities in  store  for  the  ambitious  Thane,  says: 

"  Sleep  shall  neither  night  nor  day 
Hang  upon  his  pent-house  lid ; 
He  shall  live  a  man  forbid." 

/ 
It   is  curious  also  to   remark,   in   the   various 

lists  of  griefs  which  make  life  a  burden  and  a 


AND  THE  CAUSES  THEREOF.  19 

sorrow,  how  often  the  climax  of  these  woes  is 
the  lack  of  sleep,  or  the  troubled  dreams  bearing 
their  train  of  "gorgons,  hydras,  and  chimeras 
dire,"  which  come  with  broken  rest.  Lady 
Percy  says  to  Hotspur: —  % 

"  Why  hast  thou  lost  the  fresh  blood  in  thy  cheeks,     * 
And  given  my  treasures  and  my  rights  of  thee 
To  thick-e}red  musing  and  curst  melancholy? 
Tell  me,  sweet  lord,  what  is  't  that  takes  from 

thee 
Thy  stomach,  pleasure,  and  thy  golden  sleep?" 

Macbeth  says:  — 

uBut  let  the  frame  of  things  disjoint,  both  the 

worlds  suffer, 

Ere  we  will  eat  our  meal  in  fear,  and  sleep 
In  the  affliction  of  these  terrible  dreams 
That    shake    us    nightly;    better    be    with   the 

dead." 

In  " Othello"  is  a  striking  picture  of  the  sudden 
change,  in  the  direction  we  are  considering, 
which  comes  over  a  tranquil  mind  from  the 


20  SHAKESPEARE'S  INSOMNIA, 

commission  of  a  great  crime.  lago  says  to 
Othello,  after  he  has  wrought  "the  deed  with- 
out a  name  "  :  — 

"  Not  poppy  nor  mandragora, 
Nor  all  the  drowsy  syrups  of  the  world, 
Shall  ever  medicine  thee  to  that  sweet  sleep 
Which  thou  own'dst  yesterday." 

The  greatest  punishment  which  comes  to 
Macbeth  after  the  murder  of  Duncan  is  lack 
of  sleep.  Nowhere  in  the  language,  in  the 
same  space,  can  be  found  so  many  pictures  of 
the  blessedness  of  repose  as  in  the  familiar 
lines :  — 

"  Methought  I  heard  a  voice  cry,  '  Sleep  no  more ! 
Macbeth  does  murder  sleep,'  the  innocent  sleep ; 
Sleep  that  knits  up  the  ravelled  sleave  of 

care, 

The  death  of  each  day's  life,  sore  labor's  bath, 
Balm    of   hurt   minds,    great    Nature's    second 

course, 
Chief  nourisher  in  life's  feast." 


AND  THE  CAUSES  THEREOF.  21 

And  the  principal  reason  which  deters  Hamlet 
from  suicide  is  the  fear  that  even  if  he  does 
sleep  well  "  after  life's  fitful  fever  is  over,"  still, 
that  sleep  may  be  full  of  troubled  dreams. 

"To  sleep,   perchance  to  dream.      Ay,   there's 

the  rub ; 
For  in  that  sleep  of  death  what  dreams   may 

come 

When  we  have  shuffled  off  this  mortal  coil, 
Must  give  us  pause." 

Richard  III.  says,  avhen  the  catalogue  of  his 
crimes  is  full,  and  when  he  "sees  as  in  a  map 
the  end  of  all " :  - 

"  The  sons  of  Edward  sleep  in  Abraham's  bosom, 
And  Anne,  my  queen,  hath  bid  the  world  good 
night." 

In  addition  to  the  fuller  phrases  wherein  are 
shown  the  blessedness  of  sleep,  or  the  remedi- 
less nature  of  its  loss,  many  brief  sentences 
occur  scattered  throughout  the  plays,  and 


22  SHAKESPEARE'S  INSOMNIA, 

emphasizing     the     same     great    lesson.      For 
instance :  — 

"Now  o'er  one  half  the  world 
Nature  seems  dead,  and  wicked  dreams  abuse 
The  curtained  sleep." 

"With  Him  above 
To  ratify  our  work,  we  may  again 
Give  to  our  tables  meat,  sleep  to  our  nights." 

"You  lack  the  season  of  all  natures,  sleep." 
"My  soul  is  heavy,  and  I  fain  would  sleep." 

"For  never  yet  one  hour  in  his  bed 
Have  I  enjoyed  the  golden  dew  of  sleep." 

"For  some  must  watch  and  some  must  sleep, 
So  runs  the  world  away." 

"  How  sweet  the  moonlight  sleeps  upon  that  bank." 

"The  best  of  rest  is  sleep." 

"  Our  little  lives  are  rounded  with  a  sleep." 

The   various   passages   cited   above   prove   and 
illustrate  that  no   author  has  written  so  feel- 


AND  THE  CAUSES  THEREOF.  23 

ingly,  so  appreciatingly,  as  Shakespeare  on  the 
subject  of  sleep  and  its  loss. 

The  diligent  commentators  on  his  works  have 
investigated  laboriously  the  sources  from  which 
he  drew  his  plots  and  many  of  the  very  lines 
of  his  poems.  He  was  a  great  borrower;  ab- 
sorbing, digesting,  and  making  his  own  much 
of  the  material  of  his  predecessors.  But  it  is 
a  noteworthy  fact,  that  none  of  the  exquisite 
lines  in  praise  of  sleep  —  that  gift  which  the 
Psalmist  says  the  Lord  giveth  to  his  beloved  — 
can  be  traced  to  other  source  than  the  master. 
These  are  jewels  of  his  own ;  transcripts  from 
his  own  mournful  experience.  In  middle  life 
he  remembered  hopelessly  the  tranquil  sleep  of 
his  lost  youth,  as 

"He  that  is  stricken  blind  cannot  forget 
The  precious  treasure  of  his  eyesight  lost." 

He  had  suffered  from  insomnia,  and  he  writes 
of  this,  not   "as  imagination  bodies  forth  the 


24  SHAKESPEARE'S  INSOMNIA. 

forms  of  things  unknown"  but  as  one  who,  in 
words  burning  with  indestructible  life,  lays  open 
to  us  the  sombre  record  of  what  was  experience 
before  it  was  song ;  who  makes  us  the  sharers 
of  his  griefs ;  who  would  awaken  in  the  simi- 
larly afflicted  of  all  time  that  compassionate 
sympathy  which  goes  out  to  those  whose 
burdens  are  almost  greater  than  they  can 
bear. 


II. 

/T~VEE  meagre  information  we  have  as  to  the 
life  and  habits  of  Shakespeare  would  seem 
to  make  it  an  almost  hopeless  task  now  to  dis- 
cover the  causes  of  his  insomnia.  He  wrote 
a  marvellous  body  of  literature,  and  it  might 
be  thought  this  labor  itself  would  suffice  as 
an  explanation :  that  the  furnace  heat  in  which 
the  conceptions  of  Hamlet  and  Macbeth  and 
Lear  were  wrought  in  the  crucible  of  his 
brain  would  be  fatal  to  repose.  But  his  con- 
temporaries speak  of  him  as,  an  easy  and  rapid 
writer ;  one  whose  imagination  is  only  paralleled 
by  the  ease,  the  force  and  beauty  of  the  phrase 
in  which  it  is  embodied.  We  are  told,  too,  by 
Dr.  H.  A.  Johnson,  an  eminent  medical  author- 


26  SHAKESPEARE'S  INSOMNIA, 

ity,  in  the  second  volume  of  his  treatise  on  the 
pathology  of  the  optic  nerve,  that  it  is  not  work, 
even  heavy  and  continuous,  but  worry  over  this 
work,  which  drives  away  repose  and  shortens  life. 
I  had  observed,  in  collating  the  many  passages 
in  Shakespeare  concerning  sleep,  that  the  greater 
number,  and  those  bearing  evidence  of  deepest 
earnestness,  occurred  in  six  plays :  "  Richard 
III.,"  "  Macbeth,"  al  Henry  IV.,"  "  Hamlet," 
"  2  Henry  IV.,"  and  "  Henry  V."  The  chronology 
of  Shakespeare's  plays  seems  almost  hopeless, 
scarcely  any  two  writers  agreeing  as  to  the 
order  of  the  plays  or  the  years  in  which  they 
were  written.  Several  of  the  most  critical  au- 
thorities, however,  —  Dyce,  White,  Furnival,  and 
Halliwell-Phillipps,  —  are  agreed  that  two  of  the 
plays  above  named  were  written  in  1593,  three 
in  1602,  and  one  in  1609.  This  would  seem 
to  indicate  that  during  these  three  years  unu- 
sual perplexities  or  anxieties  had  surrounded 
our  author;  and  on  noting  this,  it  occurred  to 


AND  THE  CAUSES  THEREOF.  27 

me  that  on  these  points  the  series  of  papers 
recently  discovered  and  called  the  Southampton 
manuscripts,  which  are  not  yet  published,  might 
give  light.  I  accordingly  addressed  a  letter  to 
the  Director  of  the  British  Museum,  where  the 
manuscripts  are  placed  for  safe  keeping,  and  re- 
ceived the  following  reply  :  — 

BRITISH  MUSEUM,  OFFICE  OF  CHIEF  CURATOR, 
DEPARTMENT  OF  MANUSCRIPTS,  LONDON,  Feb.  14,  1886, 

SIB,  —  I  am  directed  by  the  Curator  to  ac- 
knowledge the  receipt  of  your  valued  favor  of 
February  1,  transmitting  for  preservation  and 
reference  in  the  library  of  this  institution  — 

1.  The  manuscript  of  the  farewell  address  of 
Dr.  Charles  Oilman  Smith,  on  his  retirement  to 
private  life  from  the  presidency  of  the  Chicago 
Literary  Club; 

2.  The  manuscript  of  the  inaugural  address  of 
his  successor  in  the  office,  —  which  is  a  public 
trust,  —  James  S.  Norton,  Esq. ; 


28  SHAKESPEARE'S  INSOMNIA, 

3.  An  affidavit  of  Dr.  W.  F.  Poole,  that  both 
manuscripts  are  originals,  and  in  the  handwriting 
of  their  eminent  authors. 

The  Curator  further  instructs  me  to  convey  to 
you  the  thanks  of  the  Board  of  Governors  for 
these  highly  important  papers,  and  to  state  to 
you  that  they  may  be  found  on  file  in  sub- 
compartment  No.  113,280  of  Contemporary 
Documents. 

I  am  further  instructed  by  the  Curator  to  in- 
form you  that  compliance  with  your  request 
that  this  institution  reciprocate  your  kindness 
by  loaning  to  you  all  papers  from  the  recently 
discovered  Southampton  Shakespeare  Collection, 
bearing  date  in  the  years  1593,  1602,  and  1609, 
is  contrary  to  the  regulations  of  this  institution. 
If  you  cannot  visit  London  to  examine  these 
interesting  manuscripts,  copies  will  be  made 
and  transmitted  you  for  three  halfpence  per 
folio,  payment  by  our  rules  invariably  in  advance. 
I  note  that  you  are  evidently  in  error  upon  one 


AND  THE  CAUSES  THEREOF.  29 

point.  The  collection  contains  no  letters  or  man- 
uscripts of  Shakespeare.  It  is  composed  princi- 
pally of  letters  written  to  Shakespeare  by  va- 
rious people,  and  which,  after  his  death,  in 
some  way  came  into  the  possession  of  the  Earl 
of  Southampton.  His  death,  so  soon  after  that 
of  Shakespeare,  doubtless  caused  these  letters  to 
be  lost  sight  of,  and  they  were  but  last  year 
discovered  in  the  donjon  of  the  castle.  I  have 
examined  the  letters  for  the  years  you  name, 
and  find  that  copies  of  the  same  can  be  made 
for  £3  3s.,  exclusive  of  postage. 
Very  respectfully  yours, 

JOHN  BARNACLE, 

10th  Ass't  Sub- Secretary. 

The  money  having  been  forwarded,  I  received 
in  due  time  the  copies.  At  the  first  date,  1593, 
Shakespeare  was  a  young  dramatist  and  actor 
struggling  for  recognition,  poor  and  almost  un- 
known; in  1602  he  had  won  an  assured  posi- 


30  SHAKESPEARE'S  INSOMNIA, 

tion  among  his  fellows,  and,  with  the  thrift 
which  characterized  him,  had  secured  an  interest 
in  the  Globe  Theatre,  where  his  plays  were  per- 
formed; in  1609  he  was  in  the  fulness  of  his 
contemporary  fame,  had  bought  valuable  prop- 
erty in  Stratford,  and  was  contemplating  retire- 
ment to  his  country  home. 

The  following  are  the  letters  from  the  South- 
ampton collection  which  serve  to  throw  light 
upon  the  insomnia  of  Shakespeare.  They  are 
given  in  their  chronological  order,  and  verbatim, 
but  not  literatim,  the  orthography  having  been 
modernized.  The  first  of  the  letters,  dated  in 
1593,  is  from  a  firm  of  lawyers,  Messrs.  Shal- 
low &  Slender,  and  is  as  follows:  — 

INNER  TEMPLE,  LONDON,  Feb.  15,  1593. 
To  WILLIAM  SHAKESPEARE  : 

Mr.  Moses  Solomons,  an  honored  client  of 
our  firm,  has  placed  with  us,  that  payment  may 
be  straightway  enforced,  a  bill  drawn  by  John 


AND  THE  CAUSES  THEREOF.  31 

Heminge,  for  £10,  due  in  two  months  from  the 
date  thereof,  and  the  payment  of  which  was 
assured  by  you  in  writing.  This  bill  has  been 
for  some  days  overdue,  and  Mr.  Solomons  is 
constrained  to  call  upon  you  for  payment  at 
once.  Your  prompt  attention  to  this  will  save 
the  costs  and  annoyance  of  an  arrest. 

The  second  letter  is  from  the  same  parties, 
and  bears  date  four  days  later  than  the  first. 

INNER  TEMPLE,  Feb.  19,  1593. 
Mr.  WILLIAM  SHAKESPEARE  : 

Recurring  to  certain  statements  made  by 
yourself  at  our  chambers  yesterday,  we  have 
considered  the  same,  and  have  likewise  the 
opinion  thereon  of  our  client,  Mr.  Solomons. 
As  we  do  now  recall  them,  you  nominated  three 
principal  grounds  why  you  should  not  be  pressed 
to  pay  the  bill  drawn  by  Mr.  Heminge.  First, 
that  you  received  no  value  therefor,  having  put 


32  SHAKESPEARE'S  INSOMNIA, 

your  name  to  the  bill  upon  the  assurance  that  it 
was  a  matter  of  form,  and  to  oblige  a  friend. 

To  this  we  rejoin,  that  by  the  law  of  estoppel 
you  are  precluded  to  deny  the  consideration 
after  the  bill  hath  passed  into  the  holding  of  a 
discounter  unnotified  of  the  facts. 

Second,  That,  as  our  client  paid  but  £1  for 
the  bill,  he  should  not  exact  £10  thereon.  To 
the  which  we  reply,  that,  so  a  valuable  consid- 
eration was  passed  for  the  bill,  the  law  looketh 
not  to  its  exact  amount.  It  is  also  asserted  by 
our  client  that,  beyond  actual  coin  given  for  the 
bill,  he  did  further  release  to  John  Heminge 
certain  tinsel  crowns,  swords,  and  apparel  ap- 
purtenant to  the  representation  of  royalty,  which 
had  before  then  —  to  wit,  two  weeks  before  — 
been  pledged  to  him  for  the  sum  of  8  shillings, 
borrowed  by  the  said  Heminge. 

Third,  That  it  was  impossible  for  you  to  pay 
the  bill,  you  having  no  money,  and  receiving  no 
greater  income  than  22  shillings  per  week,  all 


AND  THE  CAUSES  THEREOF.  33 

of  which  was  necessary  to  the  maintenance  of 
yourself  and  family.  We  regret^  again  to  call 
to  your  notice  the  Statute  of  16  Eliz.,  entitled, 
"Concerning  the  Imprisonment  of  Insolvent 
Debtors,"  which  we  trust  you  will  not  oblige 
us  to  invoke  in  aid  of  our  suffering  client's 
rights.  To  be  lenient  and  merciful  is  his  in- 
clination, and  we  are  happy  to  communicate 
to  you  this  most  favorable  tender  for  an  acquit- 
tance of  his  claim.  You  shall  render  to  us 
an  order  on  the  Steward  of  the  Globe  Theatre 
for  20  shillings  per  week  of  your  stipend  therein. 
This  will  leave  to  you  yet  2  shillings  per  week, 
which,  with  prudence,  will  yield  to  you  the  com- 
forts, if  not  the  luxuries,  of  subsistence.  In 
ten  weeks  the  face  of  the  bill  will  be  thus 
repaid.  For  his  forbearance  in  the  matter  of 
time,  which  hath  most  seriously  inconvenienced 
him,  he  requires  that  you  shall  pay  him  the 
further  sum  of  £2  as  usury,  and  likewise  that 
you  do  liquidate  and  save  him  harmless  from 


34  SHAKESPEARE'S  INSOMNIA, 

the  charges  of  us,  his  solicitors,  which  charges, 
from  the  number  of  grave  and  complicated 
questions  which  have  become  a  part  of  this  case 
and  demanded  solution,  we  are  unable  to  make 
less  than  £4.  We  should  say  five,  but  your 
evident  distress  hath  moved  us  to  gentleness 
and  mercy.  These  added  sums  are  to  be  like- 
wise embraced  in  the  Steward's  order,  and  paid 
at  the  same  rate  as  the  substance  of  the  bill, 
and  should  you  embrace  this  compassionate  ten- 
der, in  the  brief  period  of  sixteen  weeks  you 
will  be  at  the  end  of  this  indebtedness. 

The  next  letter  is  dated  the  following  month, 
and  is  from  Henry  Howard,  an  apparent  pawn- 
broker. 

QUEER  STREET,  LONDON,  10  March,  1593. 
To  WILLIAM  SHAKESPEARE,  Actor: 

These  presents  are  to  warn  you  that  the  time 
has  six  days  since  passed  in  which  you  were  to 


AND  THE  CAUSES  THEREOF.  35 

repay  me  8  shillings,  and  thereby  redeem  the 
property  in  pledge  to  me;  namely,  one  Henry 
VIII.  shirt  of  mail  and  visor,  and  Portia's  law 
book,  and  the  green  bag  therefor.  Be  warned 
that  unless  the  8  shillings  and  the  usance  thereof 
be  forthcoming,  the  town-crier  shall  notify  the 
sale  of  the  sundry  articles  named. 

The  next  letter,  and  the  last  in  this  period 
of  the  poet's  career  (1593),  is  from  Mordecai 
Shylock. 

FLEET  STREET,  NEAR  THE  SIGN  OF  THE 
HOG  IN  ARMOR,  Nov.  22,  1593. 

To  WILLIAM  SHAKESPEARE: 

I  have  been  active  in  the  way  you  some  days 
since  besought  me ;  namely,  the  procuring  for 
you  of  a  loan  of  £5,  that  you  might  retire  a 
bill  upon  which  you  were  a  guarantor.  As  I 
then  told  you,  I  have  no  money  myself,  being 
very  poor ;  but  I  have  a  friend  who  has  money 
with  which  I  can  persuade  him  to  relieve  your 


36  SHAKESPEARE'S  INSOMNIA, 

wants.  Had  I  myself  the  money,  I  should 
gladly  meet  your  needs  at  a  moderate  usance, 
not  more  than  twenty-five  in  the  hundred;  but 
my  friend  is  a  hard  man,  who  exacts  large 
returns  for  his  means,  and  will  be  very  urgent 
that  repayment  be  made  on  the  day  named  in 
the  bill.  He  hath  empowered  me  to  take  your 
bill  at  two  months,  —  for  him,  mind  you,  —  for 
£10,  the  payment  to  be  assured,  as  you  wished, 
by  the  pledge  of  your  two  new  plays  in  manu- 
script,— " Midsummer  Night's  Dream"  and  " Ro- 
meo and  Juliet,"  —  for  which  bill  he  will  at  my 
strong  instance,  and  because  you  are  a  friend  to 
me,  give  £5.  My  charge  for  services  in  this 
behalf,  which  hath  consumed  much  time,  will 
be  £1,  which  I  shall  straightway  pay  out  in  the 
purchase  of  a  new  gown,  much  needed  by  my 
little  daughter  Jessica,  who  loves  you  and  re- 
calls often  the  pleasant  tales  you  do  repeat  for 
her  diversion. 


AND  THE  CAUSES  THEREOF.      37 

The  letters  in  the  second  period  (1602)  are 
nine  years  later  than  those  just  read.  The  first 
is  from  the  same  Mordecai  Shylock,  who,  with 
the  poet,  seems  to  have  prospered  in  worldly 
affairs,  as  his  letters  are  dated  in  a  more  repu- 
table portion  of  the  city. 

THREADNEEDLE  STREET,  LONDON,  April  17,  1602. 
To  WILLIAM  SHAKESPEARE: 

In  January  last  past  you  purchased  of  Rich- 
ard Burbage  four  shares  of  the  stock  of  the 
Globe  Theatre  for  £100,  and  inasmuch  as  you 
had  not  available  the  whole  means  to  pay  there- 
for, borrowed  from  me  the  £60  wanting,  paying 
yourself  £40  of  such  purchase  price,  and  giving 
me  in  pledge  for  my  £60  such  four  shares  of 
stock.  Owing  to  special  attractions  at  Black- 
friars'  Theatre,  the  stock  of  the  Globe  hath 
greatly  declined  in  value,  and  I  fear  these  four 
shares  may  not  longer  be  salable  at  the  price 
of  even  £60,  and  I  therefore  must  importune 


38  SHAKESPEARE'S  INSOMNIA, 

that  you  forthwith  do  make  a  payment  of  £20 
on  your  said  bill,  or  the  four  shares  of  stock 
will  be  sold  at  public  vendue. 

The  next  letter  is  from  the  same  writer,  and 
is  dated  nine  days  later. 

THREADNEEDLE  STREET,  April  26,  1602. 
To  WILLIAM  SHAKESPEARE: 

I  acknowledge  to  have  received  from  you  by 
the  hand  of  Henry  Condell  £5,  and  two  of  your 

own  shares  in  the  stock  of  the  Globe  Theatre 

• 

in  further  pledge  of  your  bill  of  £60,  as  was 
engaged  between  us  yesterday.  It  pains  me  to 
make  known  to  you  that,  owing  to  the  great 
demands  recently  made  upon  the  goldsmiths  by 
her  sacred  Majesty,  money  hath  become  very 
dear;  and  as  it  was  not  my  own  lent  you,  I 
have  been  obliged  to  pay  above  the  usance  ex- 
pected a  further  premium  of  seventeen  in  the 
hundred,  which  I  pray  you  to  presently  repay 


AND  THE  CAUSES  THEREOF.     39 

me.  I  am  told  that  shares  in  the  Globe  can 
now  be  bought  at  £15 ;  and  inasmuch  as  yours 
were  bought  at  £25,  should  you  acquire  other 
shares  at  £15,  it  would  serve  to  equate  your 
havings. 

The  next  letter,  from  the  same  broker,  is 
written  but  a  few  days  later. 

THREADNEEDLE  STREET,  May  12,  1602. 
To  WILLIAM  SHAKESPEARE: 

Acting  as0  requested  by  you,  I  did  one  week 
ago  buy  for  you  three  shares  in  the  Globe  The- 
atre for  £15  each,  using  in  such  purchase  the 
£15  given  me  by  you,  and  £30,  not  of  mine 
own,  but  which  was  furnished  me  by  a  gold- 
smith of  repute.  Yesterday  I  learned  that 
shares  were  offered  at  £10  each,  perchance  from 
the  efforts  of  forestallers,  as  also  from  the 
preaching  of  a  dissenter,  who  fulminates  that 
the  end  of  the  world  is  but  three  weeks  away, 


40  SHAKESPEARE'S   INSOMNIA, 

which  hath  induced  great  seriousness  among 
the  people.  Unless  you  can  pay  me,  therefore, 
as  much  as  £40,  on  the  morrow  I  shall  be  con- 
strained to  offer  such  shares  to  the  highest 
bidder  at  the  meeting  of  the  guild. 

The  next  letter  is  also  from  the  same  Mor- 
decai  Shylock,  and  is  dated  four  days  later. 

THREADNEEDLE  STREET,  May  16,  1602. 
To  WILLIAM  SHAKESPEARE: 

My  earnest  epistle  to  thee  of  four  days  since 
having  elicited  no  response,  I  did  on  the  fol- 
lowing day  offer  at  the  meeting  of  the  Brokers' 
Guild  some  of  the  shares  of  the  stock  in  the 
Globe  pledged  to  me,  and  three  shares  were 
bidden  at  £9  each  by  my  brother,  Nehemiah 
Shylock.  As  I  offered  next  all  the  rest,  one 
Henry  Wriothsley,  Earl  of  Southampton,  did 
ask  to  whom  the  shares  belonged,  and  when  he 
was  enlightened,  did  straightway  take  all  the 


AND  THE  CAUSES  THEREOF.     41 

shares  and  pay  me  the  whole  balance  owing, 
and  called  me  divers  opprobrious  names.  I  an- 
swered not  his  railing  with  railing,  for  sufferance 
is  the  badge  of  all  our  tribe,  but  such  slander 
is  illy  bestowed  on  one  who  has  been  your  friend 
for  long,  and  who  was  but  striving  to  avert  his 
own  destruction. 

The  next  letter  in  order  is  from  one  William 
Kempe,  who  would  seem  to  be  the  business 
manager  of  the  Globe  Theatre,  or  the  person 
having  in  charge  the  unskilled  labor  connected 
with  the  playhouse. 

GLOBE  PLAYHOUSE,  EMPLOYMENT  BUREAU, 
May  25,  1602. 

WILLIAM  SHAKESPEARE: 

In  much  tribulation  do  I  write  thee  as  to  the 
contention  which  hath  arisen  among  our  stock 
actors  and  supes  of  the  Globe.  Nicholas  Bot- 
tom, whom  you  brought  from  the  Parish  work- 
house in  Stratford,  is  in  ill  humor  with  thee  in 


42  SHAKESPEARE'S  INSOMNIA, 

especial.  He  says  when  he  played  with  you 
in  Ben  Jonson's  comedy,  "Every  Man  in  his 
Humor/'  he  was  by  far  the  better  actor  and 
did  receive  the  plaudits  of  all;  despite  which 
he  now  receives  but  6  shillings  each  week, 
while  you  are  become  a  man  of  great  wealth, 
having  gotten,  as  he  verily  believes,  as  much  as 
£100.  Vainly  did  I  oppose  to  him  that  the 
reason  you  had  money  when  he  had  none  was 
in  verity  that  you  had  labored  when  he  was 
drunken,  and  that  this  was  to  his  profit,  since, 
had  not  you  and  the  other  holders  of  shares  in 
the  Globe  saved  somewhat  of  money,  unthrifty 
groundlings  of  his  ilk  would  starve,  as  there 
would  be  none  to  hire  them  at  wages ;  but  he 
avers  that  he  is  ground  in  the  dust  by  the  greed 
of  capital,  and  hath  so  much  prated  of  this  that 
he  hath  much  following,  and  accounteth  himself 
a  martyr.  I  said  to  him  that  at  your  especial 
order  he  was  paid  6  shillings  per  week,  which 
was  double  his  worth,  and  that  he  should  go 


AND  THE  CAUSES  THEREOF.  43 

elsewhere  if  he  was  not  content,  as  I  could  daily 
get  a  better  man  for  half  his  wages ;  but  he 
will  not  go  hence,  nor  will  he  perform,  and  has 
persuaded  others  to  join  with  him,  his  very 
worthlessness  having  made  him  their  leader,  and 
they  threaten,  unless  they  may  receive  additional 
4  shillings  per  week,  and  a  groat  each  night  for 
sack,  they  will  have  no  plays  performed,  nor 
will  they  allow  others  to  be  hired  in  their  stead. 
They  do  further  demand  that  you  shall  write 
shorter  plays ;  that  you  shall  write  no  tragedies 
requiring  them  to  labor  more  than  three  hours 
in  the  rendition ;  that  you  shall  cut  out  as  much 
as  twelve  pages  each  in  "Richard  III."  and 
"  Othello,"  and  fifteen  pages  from  "  Hamlet,"  that 
they  may  not  labor  to  weariness,  and  may  have 
more  hours  to  recreation  and  improvement  at 
the  alehouse.  I  know  not  what  to  do.  If  I 
yield  them  then*  demands,  nothing  will  be  left 
for  the  owners  of  shares  in  the  Globe;  and  if 
I  do  not,  I  fear  mobs  and  riots.  Fain  would 


44  SHAKESPEARE'S  INSOMNIA, 

I   receive  thy  counsel,  which  shall  have  good 
heed. 

The  next  letter  is  the  last  in  the  period  under 
review,  and  bears  date  four  days  later  than  the 
one  just  quoted  from  William  Kempe. 

AT  THE  ELEPHANT  &  MAGPIE  INN, 
LONDON,  May  29,  1602. 

To  WILLIAM  SHAKESPEARE: 

This  is  written  to  thee  by  John  Lely,  a  clerk, 
in  behalf  of  Nicholas  Bottom,  who  useth  not 
the  pen,  and  who  says  to  me  to  tell  William 
Shakespeare,  fie  upon  him  that  he  did  order 
the  aforesaid  Bottom  to  be  locked  out  of  the 
Globe  Playhouse.  Hath  he  forgotten  the  first 
play  he,  William  Shakespeare,  did  ever  write, 
to  wit,  "  Pyramus  and  Thisbe,"  when  a  boy  at 
Stratford,  which  was  played  by  himself  and 
Nicholas  Bottom  and  Peter  Quince  and  others, 
in  a  barn,  for  the  delectation  of  the  townsmen  ? 
And  is  not  this  same  play  a  part  of  his  "  Mid- 


AND  THE  CAUSES  THEREOF.  45 

summer  Night's  Dream,"  which  beggarly  play 
he  did  sell  for  £10,  and  hath  not  Nicholas  Bot- 
tom first  and  always  been  an  ass  therein? 
Doth  he  refuse  to  render  to  Nicholas  Bottom 
10  shillings  per  week  when  he  can  get  £10  or 
even  £11  for  a  beggarly  play,  which  is  nought 
unless  it  be  acted?  Many  a  time  hath  he  paid 
me  from  a  sponging  house ;  often  hath  he  given 
me  groats  for  sack,  and  for  purges  when  sack 
hath  undone  me ;  and  did  I  ever  insult  him  to 
offer  to  repay  him  a  penny?  Say  to  him,  re- 
membereth  he  not  when  the  horses  ridden  by 
Duncan  and  Macbeth  upon  the  stage  did  break 
through  the  floor,  who,  affrighted,  did  run  howl- 
ing away,  whereby  Burbage  was  aroused  and 
did  pick  him,  William  Shakespeare,  from  among 
the  horses'  feet  and  save  his  life?  And  now, 
sweet  Will,  fie  upon  thee  that  thou  didst  frown 
upon  thy  townsman.  Delay  not  to  send  me 
sundry  shillings  for  the  publican,  who  believes 
you  will  discharge,  as  often  before,  my  reckoning. 


46  SHAKESPEARE'S  INSOMNIA, 

This,  and  much  more  of  like  tenor,  saith  Nich- 
olas Bottom  to  William   Shakespeare  by  your 

worship's  humble  servant, 

JOHN  LELY. 

The  letters  in  the  third  period  bear  date  in 
1609,  seven  years  later  than  those  last  quoted. 
The  first  is  from  Rev.  Walter  Blaise,  who 
appears  to  be  the  clergyman  at  Stratford-on- 
Avon. 

STRATFORD,  Feb.  23,  1609. 
To  WILLIAM  SHAKESPEARE: 

John  Naps,  of  Greece,  who  did  recently  return 
to  his  home  here  from  London,  safely  has  deliv- 
ered to  Anne,  your  wife,  the  package  entrusted 
to  him  for  carriage.  As  your  wife  hath  not  the 
gift  of  writing,  she  does  desire  that  I  convey  to 
you  her  thanks  for  the  sundry  contents  of  the 
hamper.  She  hath  also  confided  to  me  as  her 
spiritual  adviser  that  she  did  diligently  ply  John 
Naps  with  questions  as  to  his  visit  to  you  in 
London,  and  that  said  John  Naps,  under  her 


AND  THE  CAUSES  THEREOF.  47 

interrogatories,  has  revealed  to  her  much  that 
doth  make  her  sick  at  heart  and  weary  ot 
life. 

Item.  He  doth  report  that  you  do  pass 
among  men  as  a  bachelor,  and,  with  sundry 
players  and  men  of  that  ilk,  do  frequent  a  house 
of  entertainment  kept  by  one  Doll  Tearsheet, 
and  do  kiss  the  barmaid  and  call  her  your  sweet- 
heart. 

Item.  He  doth  also  report  that  you  did  give 
to  the  daughter  of  the  publican  at  whose  house 
you  do  now  abide,  a  ring  of  fine  gold,  and  did 
also  write  to  her  a  sonnet  in  praise  of  her  eye- 
brows and  her  lips,  and  did  otherwise  wickedly 
disport  with  the  said  damsel. 

Item.  He  doth  further  report  of  you  that 
you  did  visit,  with  one  Ben  Jonson,  on  the 
Sabbath-day,  a  place  of  disrepute,  where  were 
cock-fights  and  the  baiting  of  a  bear,  and  that 
with  you  were  two  brazen  women,  falsely  called 
by  you  the  wife  and  sister  of  Ben  Jonson. 


48  SHAKESPEARE'S  INSOMNIA, 

These  things  do  overmuch  grieve  Anne,  who 
hath  been  to  you  a  loyal  wife  and  a  true,  and 
she  desires  that  you  do  forthwith  renounce  your 
evil  ways  and  return  to  the  new  house  at 
Stratford,  and  in  ashes  and  sackcloth  repent 
of  your  wanderings  from  the  straight  and 
narrow  way. 

Thus  far  have  I  spoken  to  you  as  the  mouth- 
piece and  vicegerent  of  Anne,  your  wife,  who 
is  in  sore  affliction  and  deep  grief  by  reason  of 
your  transgressions.  But,  beloved  lamb  of  my 
flock,  I  should  be  unworthy  my  high  and  sacred 
calling  did  I  not  lift  up  also  my  rebuking  voice 
as  a  pelican  in  the  wilderness,  and  adjure  you 
to  beware  of  concupiscence  and  fleshly  lust, 
which  unceasingly  do  war  upon  the  human  soul. 
Thinkest  thou  to  touch  pitch  and  remain  un- 
defiled? 

The  next  letter  is  from  the  firm  of  Coke  & 
Dogberry,  lawyers  in  London. 


AND  THE  CAUSES  THEREOF.  49 


INNER  TEMPLE,  March  8,  1609. 
To  WILLIAM  SHAKESPEARE: 

We  have  been  retained  by  Mistress  Anne  Page 
as  her  solicitors  to  bring  against  you  an  action, 
for  that  you  have  not  fulfilled  and  in  sooth  can- 
not fulfil  with  her  a  contract  of  marriage,  and 
to  seek  against  you  under  the  laws  of  this  realm 
heavy  damages  and  an  imprisonment  of  the 
body,  in  that  you  have  in  unholy  ways  trifled 
with  her  affections,  contrary  to  the  statute  in 
such  cases  provided.  She  especially  avers  that 
you  did,  two  days  before  Michaelmas,  swear  to 
her  on  a  parcel  gilt  goblet  that  you  did  love 
her  alone,  and  did  then  give  to  her  a  bracelet 
of  price.  But  yesterday,  as  she  was  bargaining 
with  a  yeoman  named  Christopher  Sly,  from 
Stratford,  for  the  purchase  of  a  spotted  pig  of 
his  own  fattening,  the  said  Sly  did  reveal  to  her 
that  you  were  his  friend,  and  that  you  had  wife 
and  children  in  your  native  town  where  he 


50  SHAKESPEARE'S  INSOMNIA, 

dwelt.  We  beg  you  to  straightway  name  to  us 
your  solicitors,  that  we  may  confer  with  them  and 
attend  to  the  issuance  of  the  writs. 


I  have  aimed  to  select  from  the  letters  sent 
me  only  those  bearing  on  some  trouble  tending 
to  cause  sleeplessness  on  the  part  of  the  poet, 
but  make  an  exception  in  case  of  a  letter  of 
Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  next  in  chronological 
order,  which  refers  to  matters  of  general 
interest. 

THE  MERMAID,  March  20,  1609. 
To  WILLIAM  SHAKESPEARE: 

Full  well  do  I  know,  my  dearest  Will,  that 
often  hast  thou  wondered  of  the  fate  of  thy  £50, 
which,  with  a  hundred  times  as  much  of  mine 
own,  was  adventured  to  found  an  empire  in 
America.  Great  were  our  hopes,  both  of  glory 
and  of  gold,  in  the  kingdom  of  Powhatan.  But 
it  grieves  me  much  to  say  that  all  hath  resulted 


AND  THE  CAUSES  THEREOF.  51 

in  infelicity,  misfortune,  and  an  unhappy  end. 
Our  ships  were  wrecked,  or  captured  by  the 
knavish  Spaniards.  Our  brave  sailors  are  per- 
ished. As  I  was  blameworthy  for  thy  risk,  I 
send  by  the  messenger  your  £50,  which  you  shall 
not  lose  by  my  over-hopeful  vision.  For  its 
usance  I  send  a  package  of  a  new  herb  from 
the  Chesapeake,  called  by  the  natives  tobacco. 
Make  it  not  into  tea,  as  did  one  of  my  kinsmen, 
but  kindle  and  smoke  it  in  the  little  tube  the 
messenger  will  bestow.  Be  not  deterred  if  thy 
gorge  at  first  rises  against  it,  for,  when  thou  art 
wonted,  it  is  a  balm  for  all  sorrows  and  griefs, 
and  as  a  dream  of  Paradise.  And  now,  my 
sweet  Will,  whom  my  soul  loveth,  why  comest 
thou  not  as  of  yore  to  the  "  Mermaid,"  that  I 
may  have  speech  with  thee?  Thou  knowest 
that  from  my  youth  up  I  have  adventured  all 
for  the  welfare  and  glory  of  our  Queen  Elizabeth. 
On  sea  and  on  land  and  in  many  climes  have 
I  fought  the  accursed  Spaniards,  and  am  honored 


52  SHAKESPEARE'S  INSOMNIA, 

by  our  sovereign  and  among  men,  and  have  won 
both  gold  and  fame ;  but  all  this  would  I  give, 
and  more,  for  a  tithe  of  the  honor  which  in  the 
coming  time  shall  assuredly  be  thine.  Thy 
kingdom  is  of  the  imagination,  and  therefore 
hath  no  limit  or  end.  Thy  wise  sayings  are 
ever  with  me.  Thou  art  the  "  immediate  jewel 
of  my  soul,"  as  thyself  hast  written.  When  I 
am  bruised  with  adversity,  I  remember  thy  say- 
ing, "He  fighteth  as  one  weary  of  his  life,"  and 
my  courage  comes;  and  even  when  I  consider 
the  solemn  end  of  all,  and  that  I  do  march  the 
way  to  dusty  death,  still,  in  thy  words,  do  I 
hope  for  grace  "  by  Christ's  dear  blood,  shed  for 
our  grievous  sins." 

Another  letter  is  from  Lord  Bacon,  and  is  as 
follows :  — 


AND  THE  CAUSES  THEREOF.  53 

GRAY'S  INN,  LONDON,  March  23,  1609. 
For  my  Beloved  WILLIAM  SHAKESPEARE,  These : 

By  the  hand  of  my  messenger  have  I  received 
thy  courteous  epistle  of  this  morning  and  thy 
admirable  sonnet  to  the  fair  Lady  Mary  in 
return  for  mine  own,  which  I  had  sent  to  thee 
for  suggestion  and  amendment.  Understand- 
ingly  do  I  say  thy  sonnet;  and  on  thy  part 
it  is  a  pleasantry  to  call  it  mine,  for  scarcely 
can  I  recognize  aught  of  mine  own  handiwork 
save  the  name  of  the  sweet  lady  to  whom  the 
sonnet  is  addressed.  Fain  would  I  claim  a 
share  in  the  creation  of  this  exquisite  work ;  yet 
at  most,  from  suggestion  of  the  theme  alone, 
my  portion  can  be  but  that  of  the  humble  grub, 
which  may  assert  that  but  for  itself  the  radiant 
butterfly,  which  rivals  the  splendors  of  the  rain- 
bow and  the  sunset,  had  not  been  born. 

At  first  I  marvelled  that  in  thy  psean  of 
praise  to  this  gracious  lady  thou  hadst  sup- 
pressed all  my  tribute  to  her  beauty,  which  is 
as  of  the  golden  dawn;  yet  even  here  I  now 


54  SHAKESPEARE'S  INSOMNIA, 

recognize  thy  supreme  merit,  for  daily  and 
hourly  are  sung  to  her  the  praises  of  this  love- 
liness until  the  story  is  as  a  tale  that  is  told 
and  a  weariness  to  the  understanding;  but  thy 
commendations  of  her  wisdom  will  be  as  fresh 
and  fragrant  incense,  nor  will  their  truthfulness 
be  too  closely  scanned. 

Thou  knowest  that  I  have  taken  all  knowl- 
edge to  be  my  province,  and  therefore  have  I 
oft  and  longingly  gazed  into  the  flowery  fields 
of  that  divine  art  where  to-day  in  our  much- 
loved  England  thou  art  disporting  thyself  su- 
premely and  alone.  But  when  I  consider  thy 
tragedies,  throughout  which  is  diffused  the  in- 
most soul  of  poesy,  my  crude  yet  labored  metres 
seem  to  me  as  the  body  of  a  maiden,  not  indeed 
devoid  of  a  certain  comeliness  and  grace,  yet 
into  whose  waiting  bosom  hath  not  yet  been 
breathed  the  spirit  of  life. 

In  thy  tragedies  thou  hast  the  majestic  grace 
which  in  the  Attic  ages  belonged  to  Sophocles 
alone;  thou  hast  the  stately  march  and  music 


AND  THE  CAUSES  THEREOF.  55 

of  ^Eschylus,  without  in  thy  themes  his  cease- 
less iteration  of  predestined  woe  which  ranks 
his  heroes  outside  humanity ;  yet  the  sombre 
hand  of  fate  hath  not  more  inflexibly  driven 
the  gentle  Iphigenia  to  her  doom  than  it  hath 
followed  Macbeth  to  his  foreshadowed  crime 
and  end.  But  in  thy  canticles  it  is  not  an 
overshadowing,  mysterious,  and  tragic  fate,  but 
a  gracious  and  loving  Providence  which,  as 
thyself  hath  phrased  it, 

"Holds  in  His  hands  the  shears  of  destiny, 
And  has  commandment  on  the  pulse  of  life." 

In  comedy,  Aristophanes  is  not  thy  master, 
yet  must  I  greatly  choose  thy  tragedies  as  mon- 
uments of  thy  abiding  fame.  Funeral  dolors 
rather  than  bridal  carols  inspire  even  the  harp 
of  David,  beloved  of  the  Lord ;  and  the  pencil 
of  the  Holy  Ghost  toucheth  ever  the  shadowed 
phases  of  our  earthly  lives. 

I  am  minded  to  now  advert  to  another  topic 
from  the  tale  told  me  by  Southampton  that 
thou  wert  presently  to  publish  a  volume  of  thy 


56  SHAKESPEARE'S  INSOMNIA, 

sugared  sonnets.  May  I  pray  thee  that  this 
collection  compass  not  the  two  sonnets  written 
by  thee  for  me  in  laud  of  our  Queen  Elizabeth, 
and  the  one  of  this  morning?  As  thou  know- 
est,  these  first  were  presented  to  our  gracious 
Sovereign  as  mine  own,  and  did  so  pleasure  her 
as  to  chiefly  prosper  my  advancement.  Were 
the  true  author  now  known  it  might  sadly 
mar  my  fortunes.  In  the  vastness  of  thy  riches, 
the  absence  of  these  gems  shall  not  be  noted. 
The  loss  of  a  star  dims  not  the  splendor  of  the 
constellations.  The  glorious  sun  seeks  not  to 
reclaim  the  lustre  his  rays  have  given  to  the 
tiny  dewdrop.  Withal  I  have  rendered  to  thee 
somewhat  of  recompense  as  I  have  spoken  at 
sundry  times  to  her  gracious  Majesty  and  to 
our  present  anointed  Sovereign  of  thy  dramas, 
and  fostered  as  best  I  might  thy  interests  when 
they  crossed  not  mine  own.  So  I  trust  this 
boon  may  be  awarded  me,  and  that  my  bor- 
rowed splendors  may  not  be  stripped  away. 
Thy  immeasurable  superiority,  as  again  evi- 


AND  THE  CAUSES  THEREOF.  57 

denced  in  the  sonnet  to  the  Lady  Mary,  has 
fixed  anew  my  resolve  as  to  my  predestined 
field  of  labor.  Not  for  my  brow  shall  be  woven 
the  Poet's  garland  of  bays.  Yet  abundant  self- 
confidence  is  mine,  and  I  augur  that  in  the 
great  work  for  which  I  would  fain  believe  the 
ages  are  waiting,  will  be  made  clear  my  award 
to  be  the  high  priest  of  Nature.  Exact  sciences 
not  yet  born  shall  be  my  servitors  and  the  aug- 
menters  of  my  fame.  By  the  methods  I  have 
discerned  shall  mankind  discover  and  apply 
those  beneficent  innovations  which  are  the 
chiefest  births  of  time.  Yet  even  this  hope 
hath  its  flavor  of  bitterness,  as  thus  guided 
my  pupils  may  far  overpass  me  and  my  memory 
be  lost.  But  the  love  of  beauty  and  melody  in 
poesy  is  of  perennial  life,  and  thy  memory  shall 
survive  the  mutations  of  time,  and  shall  be  the 
Nation's  heritage  while  fancy  and  imagination 
dwell  in  the  souls  of  men. 

Anew  do  I  now  discern  that  the  meditation 
of  Nature  and  her  laws,  mysterious  yet  exact, 


58  SHAKESPEARE'S   INSOMNIA, 

consorteth  not  with  the  airy  faiicies  of  the 
Poet's  vision,  and  that  our  paths  are  diverse, 
yet  each  guiding  to  what  is  useful  and  divine. 

Farewell!  and  until  the  dolors  of  death  are 
mine  shall  I  remember  thy  sweet,  loving  kind- 
ness, and  admire  thy  shining  genius  where  wit 
and  wisdom  guide  the  flight  of  a  sovereign 
imagination. 

Ever  thy  friend,      FRANCIS  BACON. 

One  special  point  is  notable  in  this  letter 
from  -Bacon.  His  ordinary  correspondence  is 
thickly  sprinkled  with  quotations  in  the  ancient 
tongues.  As  he  was  well  acquainted  with 
Shakespeare,  this  omission  of  his  customary 
Latin  phrases  would  indicate  that  he  recog- 
nized Shakespeare's  lack  of  a  thorough  classical 
education. 

The  next,  and  the  last  letter  in  the  collection 
which  seems  to  have  a  bearing  upon  the  sleep- 
lessness of  Shakespeare,  is  also  from  Rev.  Walter 
Blaise. 


AND  THE  CAUSES  THEKEOF.  59 


STRATFORD,  April  3,   1609. 
To  WILLIAM  SHAKESPEARE: 

Sir  Thomas  Lucy,  who  is  in  her  Majesty's 
commission  as  a  Justice  of  the  Peace  in  this 
bailiwick,  yesterday  did  inform  me  that  he  had 
been  questioned  from  London  if  you  were  a 
married  man,  and  if  yes,  when  and  to  whom 
you  were  wedded.  As  the  parish  records  are  in 
my  keeping,  I  could  but  bestow  the  information 
sought,  although  with  great  sinking  of  heart,  as 
a  well-wisher  to  you,  who,  though  given  over- 
much to  worldly  frivolities  and  revels,  yet  are 
a  worthy  citizen,  and  a  charitable  and  a  just. 
Greatly  did  I  fear  this  knowledge  was  sought 
to  thy  injury.  Hast  thou  led  a  blameless  life, 
the  gates  of  hell  shall  not  prevail  against  thee ; 
but  the  wicked  stand  on  slippery  ways.  Anne, 
thy  wife,  to  whom  I  did  unbosom  my  fears,  is 
in  much  tribulation  lest  thou  art  unfaithful  to 
thy  marriage  vows,  and  again  beseeches  me  to 


60  SHAKESPEARE'S  INSOMNIA, 

urge  thee  to  come  forth  from  wicked  Babylon 
and  dwell  in  thy  pleasant  home  in  Stratford. 
Thou  art  become  a  man  of  substance,  and  hast 
moneys  at  usury.  I  have  read  of  thy  verses 
and  plays,  which,  albeit  somewhat  given  to 
lewdness,  and  addressed  to  gain  the  favor  of  the 
baser  sort,  yet  reveal  thee  to  be  a  man  of  under- 
standing. I  cannot,  as  it  is  rumored  do  some 
of  thy  town  associates,  award  thee  the  title  of 
poet,  which  title  is  reserved  for  the  shining  ones ; 
but  thou  hast  parts.  There  are  many  parish 
clerks,  and  even  some  curates  in  this  realm, 
scarcely  more  liberally  endowed  in  mind  than 
thou.  But  greatly  do  I  fear  that  thou  art  little 
better  than  one  of  the  wicked.  How  hast  thou 
put  to  use  this  talent  entrusted  thee  by  the 
Master  of  the  vineyard?  In  the  maintenance 
of  the  things  which  profit  not ;  in  seeking  the 
applause  of  the  unworthy;  in  the  writing  of 
vain  plays,  which,  if  of  the  follies  of  youth,  may 
be  forgiven  and  remembered  not  against  thee, 


AND  THE  CAUSES  THEREOF.  61 

provided  in  riper  years  you  put  behind  you 
these  frivolities,  and  atone  for  the  mischief  thou 
hast  wrought  by  rendering  acceptable  service  to 
the  Master ;  by  coming  to  the  help  of  the  Lord 
against  the  mighty.  Gladly  would  I  take  thy 
training  in  charge,  and  guide  thy  tottering  feet 
along  the  flowery  paths  of  Homiletics.  Who 
knoweth  into  what  vessels  the  All-seeing  One 
may  elect  to  pour  his  spirit?  Perchance  in 
mercy  I  may  be  spared  to  behold  thee  a  faithful 
though  humble  preacher  of  the  Word.  Anne, 
•  thy  wife,  often  hath  likened  me  to  a  great  light 
upon  a  high  hill-top,  shining  in  the  darkness 
far  away.  I  would  not  magnify  my  powers,  but 
not  to  all  is  it  given  to  be  mighty  captains 
of  a  host.  Yet,  according  to  thy  gifts  might 
thy  work  be,  and  a  little  candle  shining  in  a 
darkened  valley  hath  its  place. 

In  the  light  of  these  letters,  some  passages 
in  "Richard  III."  and  the  "Comedy  of  Errors," 


62  SHAKESPEARE'S  INSOMNIA, 

written  in  the  same  year  (1609),  have  an  added 
significance.  In  "  Richard  III.,"  Gloster  says  to 
Anne :  — 

' '  Your  beauty  was  the  cause  of  that  effect : 
Your  beauty,  that  did  haunt  me  in  my  sleep, 
To  undertake  the  death  of  all  the  world, 
So  I  might  live  one  hour  in  thy  sweet  bosom." 

In  the  "  Comedy  of  Errors,"  the  Abbess  says  to 
Adriana :  — 

"  The  venom  clamors  of  a  jealous  woman 
Poison  more  deadly  than  a  mad  dog's  tooth. 
It  seems  his  sleep  was  hindered  by  thy  railing. 

In  food,  in  sport,  and  life-preserving  rest 
To  be  disturbed,  would  mad  or  man  or  beast. 
The  consequence  is,  then,  thy  jealous  fits 
Have  scared  thy  husband  from  the  use  of  wits." 

Note,  too,  the  kindred  thought:  — 

"Love  hath  chased  sleep  from  my  enthralled  eyes." 


AND  THE  CAUSES  THEREOF.  63 

And  again  this  passage,  called  forth  possibly  by 
the  letters  of  the  Rev.  Walter  Blaise :  - 

"  Slander, 
Whose  edge  is  sharper  than  the  sword ;  whose 

tongue 

Outvenoms  all  the  worms  of  Nile ;  whose  breath 
Rides  on  the  posting  winds  and  doth  belie 
All  corners  of  the  world." 

As  also  this:  — 

"Do  not,  as  some  ungracious  pastors  do, 
Show  me  the  steep  and  thorny  way  to  heaven, 
Whiles,  like  a  puffed  and  reckless  libertine, 
Himself  the  primrose  path  of  dalliance  treads, 
And  recks  not  his  own  rede." 

From  these  several  letters  sufficiently  appear 
the  causes  for  the  insomnia  of  Shakespeare, 
which  are  some  of  the  same  causes  resulting  in 
its  prevalence  to-day.  They  illustrate  anew  that 
history  repeats  itself  forever;  that  humanity 
is  always  the  same;  that  like  temptations  and 
errors  come  to  men  with  like  results  in  all  the 


64  SHAKESPEARE'S  INSOMNIA. 

centuries;  that  the  sleeplessness  of  Shakespeai 
came,  because,  merely  as  a  matter  of  form,  1 
had  indorsed  for  a  friend,  —  because  he  ha 
bought  more  stocks  than  he  could  pay  for,  an 
when  his  margins  were  absorbed,  came  fort 
a  shorn  and  shivering  lamb,  —  because  of  tl 
turbulence  of  labor,  —  because,  alas !  he  too  ha 
been  dazzled  and  bewildered  by 

"The  light  that  lies 
In  woman's  e}Tes." 

Marvellous  as  were  the  .endowments  of  tli 
master,  yet  was  he  human  and  as  one  of  us. 

CHICAGO,  1886. 


YA  01575 


45242** 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


